


I'll Be Home

by Mouse9



Series: Tales from Baker Street [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Another Christmas party, But it's better this time, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Post Season Four, The Holmes family is odd but a family, family is what you make of it, take your pick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/pseuds/Mouse9
Summary: Greg and Mycroft are in the formative stages of their relationship.But when Mycroft is stuck in Taiwan for the holidays, how will Greg cope?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Tales from Baker Street [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1474946
Comments: 10
Kudos: 124
Collections: Mystrade Holiday 2019





	I'll Be Home

“I’m sorry Gregory, but we seem to be an impasse. At this moment, we will be fortunate to reach an agreement before New Years’ Eve. “

The expression on Greg’s face was one of frustration and disappointment. Neither of which translated to his voice or tone. He was a professional and he would bloody well sound like one, even if it took all his training.

“I figured as much,” He congratulated himself for the evenness of his tone. “Negotiations take time, no one can reasonably expect them to wrap up end of business day Friday.”

The sigh on the other line told him Mycroft was weary and his heart ached because there was nothing he could do. Mycroft was in Taiwan and he was almost ten thousand kilometres away in London. All he could do was be supportive.

“I’ll rectify this when I return, my dear, I promise.”

Things happen handsome. It’s fine.” It wasn’t but what could you do. He gave a short laugh. “You aren’t a fan of Christmas anyway, so really, you’re not missing anything.”

“I’m missing you.”

The breath stopped short in Greg’s throat and he blinked away the sudden swell of emotion that hit him.

“They’re calling us in, I must go. I will try to message you once we’re finished.”

The call was disconnected before Greg could even say goodbye. Instead, he was standing in an empty hallway at the Yard, fighting back emotions. 

They were still in a formative stage of their relationship where everything was new, and, although when they were alone there was fire and passion and love, it was still the public part they were struggling with. 

Mycroft because he’d lived so long with the Iceman persona- the steadfast belief that sentiment was a weakness that could be exploited that he was still not only dealing with his younger brother’s newly found sentiment but his families as well. The idea of a semipublic romantic relationship was still a new experience.

For Greg, it was because everyone knew him as the older divorced copper. His mates and coworkers either knew or knew of Maggie and while the support was clearly on his side as to that relationship, the new discovery of their friend and/ or boss dating not on a government official, but the eldest Holmes brother would most likely knock everyone for a loop.

Sally leaned out the door frame, her dark eyes taking in Greg’s expression in a glance.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just…setback.” He tucked his mobile away and cleared his throat. Sally gave him a look that told him she didn’t’ believe him but she wouldn’t push it.

“Okay. We just got a call. Body down at the Warf. Wanna drive?”

Greg nodded. 

“Let’s go.”

* * *

“Do you have plans on Christmas, Greg?”

“The sound of his name pulled him back to the here and now- the here being the morgue at St. Barts, the now- looking over a blue tinged bloated body.

“Huh? Oh no, well, I’ll skype my sister and her family on Christmas Eve, but I work early the day after, so I couldn’t visit.”

He’d been hoping for a quiet night in front of a fire, some good food and better company. Now, it was most likely leftovers and old episodes of Top Gear. 

Molly looked as if she could read his mind. Her mouth dropped into a disappointed frown

“Oh no, you should be around people who love you.” 

_Funny that._

“Look, John and Sherlock are putting on a Christmas dinner,” she said, her gaze glancing towards the door and back to him. “Well John is. Sherlock’s mostly not getting in his way. It starts at four, say you’ll be there?”

“A Christmas party? I really don’t think…”

His mind went back to the last Christmas party at Baker Street. Full of embarrassment and awkwardness and illuminating revelations.

Molly must’ve sensed it too for she blushed lightly under an embarrassed smile. 

“Just a small casual dinner, nothing fancy. Sherlock even promised to behave.”

The doors to the morgue squeaked open and Sherlock strode in, his gaze going to the two of them standing beside the table, deducing everything even as he spoke.

“I promise no such thing, why ever would I do that? Why are you two discussing me instead of the body?”

One more glance between the two of them gave him the answer.

“You’ve invited Greg.”

It still surprised Greg that Sherlock remembered his name now. He’d gotten used to five years of Sherlock calling him either by his surname or by the wrong first name completely. Hearing him used his first name properly without the prompting of someone- usually John- was still something that made him pause. 

“It’s for family and friends, you agreed.”

“And yet you and John insist on inviting the whole of London.”

“It’s not the whole, Sherlock,” Molly countered with the air of a person who was used to arguments like this. “We’re up to seven people- “

“Nine, my parents informed me that they’re coming down to partake because someone told them.” His look clearly said he knew who that _someone_ was. Molly was nonplussed.

“Actually eight, Mycroft is still in Taiwan.” She countered, and Greg wondered how she knew. From the look on Sherlock’s face, he was wondering the same thing. “And I didn’t call them, John did. It’ll be good for your parents to come down, they’ll dote on Rosie and she’ll be perfectly spoiled.”

Greg belatedly wondered if he’d somehow found himself in the middle of a domestic- the problem being he wasn’t sure who the domestic was between.

“I’ll be there,” he said, mostly to alleviate the awkwardness he was feeling and mostly to stop any further hints of an argument before they started. “Thank you, Molly. Sherlock.”

The latter merely nodded and stepped closer to the table, any previous disagreements blown away like the wind.

“If we could return to the body?” he asked and just like that, the case was back on, thoughts of Christmas forgotten.

* * *

[09:15 How’s it going? -G]

[09:22 Appallingly. M]

[09:22 Hopefully your day is going better? M]

[09:23 New day. Same cases. G]

[09:23 Miss you. G]

[09:24 I miss you as well. Although the culinary fair is improved from your favourite takeaway place, the company is sorely lacking. M]

[09:26 I keep forgetting you’re 8 hours ahead of me. G]

[09:26 You looked that up online, didn’t you? M]

[09:26 Maybe. I’ll never tell. ;) G]

[ 09:27 They are calling us in for supper. M]

[xxx G]

* * *

“I miss you, Greg. The kids miss you,” 

The image of his younger sister, a little greyer than the last time he saw her, a few more lines around her eyes and mouth, looked sadly at him through the video. He’d spoken to his nephews and niece- even the teenaged one- and wished his brother in law a Happy Christmas. Now it was just the two of them. Hazel eyes scanned his face worriedly. 

“I told you, Ellie, I had to work the day after, it would’ve been a waste to come down for a day and then come back.”

“I know, I know, and I’m not complaining about that, it’s just…” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him once more. “How are you doing Greg? I hate the idea of you alone this year.”

Greg grinned fondly at her. “I’m not alone. I’m having dinner tomorrow with friends.”

Even after agreeing, he hadn’t really committed to going to Baker Street until that moment. His sister’s expression lightened. 

“Okay, as long as you’re around friends. And you better not be lying to me Greg, or else.”

He laughed. “Promise. I’ll even take pictures to prove it if you like. I’m going to Sherlock’s.”

Ellie’s eyes brightened. “That detective? Oh, then yes, I will take pictures, especially of him.”

“Not you too.”

“I can look. Especially from a far distance. Where he can’t deduce me.” She grinned. “Although he’d probably sympathize with having you for a brother.”

“Oi!”

She laughed at his playful outrage.

“You’re…happy, aren’t you?” she asked once the laughter had died away. “All I want is for you to be happy. Lord knows you haven’t had much of that.”

He smiled at her. His bright, clever sister. “Yeah, Ellie. I’m happy.”

* * *

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, especially after the last disastrous party, but Baker Street was lit in fairy lights of white and different colours. A small tree sat in the corner of the sitting room, next to the yellow chair, away from the main traffic and a nosy baby.

The entire flat was warm, inviting and the strains of Christmas music being played on a violin invited him in as he stepped inside.

Mrs. Hudson was sitting in a chair, listening happily as Sherlock played “Carol of the Bells” on his violin.

An older white-haired man held a laughing Rosie and was dancing in small swaying steps around the front room to the music. 

“Happy Christmas,” John called from the kitchen as he stepped further into the room. John and Molly were finishing putting together dinner along with a white-haired older woman who was stirring something in a pan. She looked over her shoulder as Greg stepped in. 

“Happy Christmas,” Greg answered, holding out the wrapped bottle of wine. Molly took it with a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m glad you decided to come.” She said.

“Thank you for inviting me.” He answered. John gave him a look.

“You’re family Greg, why wouldn’t we?”

The woman wiped her hand on a dish towel and eyed the bottle as she approached Greg. 

“Sherlock hasn’t touched that, has he?”

“It was the one time!” Came the exasperated answer from the other room. 

“Um…no?” Greg looked to Molly who merely shrugged, then to John who grinned. 

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Violet, this is Greg Lestrade. Greg, this is Violet Holmes.” Molly said by way of introduction. “And the handsome gentleman in there dancing with Rosie is Signer Holmes.”

“Let me look at you.” Mrs. Holmes said, taking the outstretched hand Greg offered with both hands. Her blue eyes studied him keenly and he suddenly understood where Sherlock and Mycroft got their intellect. She smiled as if discovering a great secret.

“You’ll do well. Very well indeed. It’s very nice to meet you, Gregory.”

Greg swallowed, gaze going to Molly who wore a smirk on her lips.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Holmes.” He said, turning his attention back to the women who just fileted him open. 

“Oh pish, call me Violet.” She insisted, turning again to the grandmotherly figure he’d first thought she was in a blink. Patting his hand once more, she let him go and walked into the sitting room. “Father, let me have that lovely little girl.”

Greg looked to John and Molly a bit confused. Molly bit her lip to keep from smiling and John just shook his head.

“She’s always like that. At first glance one can’t figure out where the siblings came from and then in a blink of an eye, you understand it perfectly.”

Molly was right, Greg thought as he leaned against a wall watching the interactions with everyone in the flat, this year was different, so much different than the party years past.

The flat was full of warmth and love. Christmas music was softly playing from a speaker connected to Sherlock’s phone. Rosie and John were on the floor by the tree where Rosie was surrounded by presents. She was enthusiastically ripping paper from the packages, all of which was being picked up by a laughing Molly who was shoving the pieces in a bin.

There had been gifts exchanged earlier by the adults, gifts that came with furtive glances and quiet words of thanks, put to the side to open later in privacy, gifts that were presented loudly and laughingly for all to see as they were opened. Greg had received a jersey of his favourite footy team as well as a bottle of very fine whiskey. Molly seemed happy with her gifts, as did John and even Sherlock, though he merely nodded his thanks. 

The sound of the door opening downstairs caught his attention, as well as Sherlock’s, who looked up with furrowed brow. The footsteps on the front stairs had the man rolling his eyes.

“Looks like Mummy gets her Christmas wish after all.” He grumbled. Molly nudged his side.

“Hush.”

Greg straightened, his attention going to the door, heart pounding furiously against his chest. 

_Could it be?_ The last time they’d spoken, there was no agreement in the future. Had somehow a Christmas miracle happened?

The door was pushed open and a tired-looking Mycroft stepped in, suit still on but looking a little out of sorts. Violet Holmes stood, tears in her eyes. 

“Myke, you did make it after all.” 

Rushing over, she gathered her eldest up, kissing his cheeks. Her merely patted her on the back.

“As you see.” He answered tiredly, taking in everyone in the room. As his mother pulled back, he caught sight of Greg standing by the wall, staring at him as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

Greg stared at the man. He’d made it. Somehow, by some act of God, Mycroft had made it. 

Putting down his glass, he took a step forward, eyes fixed upon him.

Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Held out his arms. 

“Happy Christmas Gregory.”

“You…”

Four quick steps and Mycroft was in his arms. He held the man tightly, blinking back tears and sniffing. He felt the arms just as tight against his own body. 

Pulling away, he cupped Mycroft’s face and kissed him, mindless of anyone else in the room. Mycroft was home. He’d made it home for Christmas. 

“How? You didn’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t sure it would be completed and…I didn’t wish to get your hopes up only to have disappointment.” He suddenly looked a little shy. “I was rather hoping it would be a surprise.”

“It’s a surprise. The best surprise I’ve had.” 

Another kiss. Greg wanted to wrap him up, hold him close, kiss him until the bells for Christmas rang but he was aware of the clearing of a throat behind them.

Mycroft’s gaze shifted a little to the right and he flushed a light pink. Greg turned. Violet and Signer were watching the two, Violet beaming as if she’d been given the best present ever. To her left, Molly was almost bursting with joy, John looked confused and Sherlock…

To say that Sherlock looked gobsmacked would be an understatement. He stared at them both as if they’d just shared the secret of the universe with him and that secret was chocolate rum.

“Yes, well…” Mycroft began, and Greg let go, taking a step back. Mycroft reached out taking his hand before he could move too far, and Greg couldn’t help the smile.

“How…” The rest of that sentence died on Sherlock’s lips as if he’d forgotten how to speak. Molly patted his arm and shared a look with John.

“Happy Christmas Mycroft, would you like a drink? I’m sure the flight couldn’t have been enjoyable.”

Mycroft cleared his throat once more, meeting Sherlock’s still surprised gaze warily. 

“Thank you, Miss Hooper.”

“Molly.” 

“Yes.”

“There’s still food in there too, Mycroft,” John said, patting Sherlock’s other arm, following it up with an elbow jab to the ribs. 

Sherlock blinked, then straightened. 

“Well…” his gaze bounced between Mycroft and Greg. “Yes. Food.”

And that. Was that. Greg bit back a grin at the anticlimactic results and pressed another kiss to Mycroft’s cheek as the room began moving once more.

“I love my present,” Greg said, his voice low so as not to carry across the room. “Thank you.”

Mycroft looked down at him, the wary expression changing to something softer. “I haven’t given you your present yet.”

Greg smiled up at him, emotion in his eyes he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide, nor wanted to. His smile widened as Mycroft’s ice blue eyes widened in understanding.

“Yeah, you did. Merry Christmas handsome.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea last year, but didn't feel comfortable enough to write it. This year, it's...well, probably a poor attempt at a "Thank you" and a "Happy Holidays" to the Mystrade community on Twitter who has made me feel welcomed in this ship.


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